Blindsided

Sundays are our days to be lazy. We don't generally entertain visitors on Sundays and instead spend the afternoon watching movies and avoiding anything that might cause me to make movements greater than reaching for the remote control. So when B's mom called us at noontime and asked me to drive her to the cemetery so she could visit the grave of B's dad a monkey wrench was thrown into our plans to have no plans.

"And while we're gone, Gerd (her gentleman friend) can stay with B."

Hmmm. I don't like that. I am not fond of leaving B alone with someone other than his mom while I'm gone. I'm territorial. If I were a dog I would have peed in every corner of my apartment to mark my area.

Still I couldn't say no. It's the anniversary of the death of B's dad - hence my MIL wanting to go to the cemetery - and it seemed to be uncomfortable for Gerd to drive her there. She could get there with a streetcar but the area where B's dad is buried is waaay in the back of this huge cemetery - like a mile back - and she wasn't up for the walk.

B wasn't crazy about this plan either. He didn't want to stay alone with Gerd - we're just ridiculous like that - and it just seemed silly for Gerd to come over while my MIL and I were cemetery bound. If he didn't want to drive my MIL himself, why not just stay in her apartment with the dogs?

It's a mark of the closeness B and I share that we had the idea at the same time that the reason for Gerd to be here was that he wanted a chance to talk with B alone. About what? They're going to move in together! That must be it! Gerd wanted to have a man-to-man talk with B about it! Or they're talking about getting married! Living together is one thing, but getting married? No. Nuh uh. They don't need to get married. Living together can be seen as a practical step seeing as they're together all the time anyway but married? With this guy suddenly being able to get access to her money and make decisions in her absence? Nope. Noooo. Nonononono. And with the laws in Germany, he'd get half of her stuff at her death - half of her stuff? Not gonna happen on my watch. Plus they'd both lose their widow/widower pensions.

So we spent the 3 hours before they showed up in an absolute froth. Sunday afternoon bollocksed up and half of my MIL's stuff going to a guy who would end up passing that same stuff on to his kids - kids we don't know and who aren't very nice to Gerd in the first place. Let the grumbling and grousing begin.

In the meantime the Pink Ribbon sock I'm knitting? More fucked up than a soup sandwich. I, like an idiot, merely read the instructions in the pattern - I didn't read and think about them as well. If I'd read and thought about them I would have realized that the instructions for the heel turn on the size sock I was knitting makes a sock that would be great if someone's heel was 2 centimeters to the left of center. So now I have a lopsided heel and I proceeded to rip the heel back to before the turn. Couldn't get the needle back in. Ripped it back to halfway through the heel flap. Couldn't get the needle back in. Ripped it back to the start of the heel flap. Couldn't get the needle back in. Swore entirely too loud for it being a serene Sunday afternoon and ripped the entire sock apart. And then I took a deep breath, prayed for a moment of serenity and cast on for the fourth time. I think trying to knit the same sock four times is somehow a test. It's testing my patience or ability to follow through or my masochistic streak but it's a test all the same.

The lovebirds showed up and I settled Gerd in with a glass of mineral water, gave B a "Be strong!" look and left with my MIL. And when my MIL tried to find the back entrance to the cemetery - the end where the grave is - we got lost. Well, lost isn't right. I mean we knew what neighborhood we were in but couldn't find the right street. After a few U-turns and false starts down narrow streets we found the cemetery's back entrance and I sat in the car while my MIL made her visit. All the while as I waited in the car I could imagine the conversation going on back at my apartment.

"B, I adore your mother and I'd like to marry her. I'd like to have your blessing."

"Gerd, you're a nice man but I'm a practical man. Live in sin. You're not getting half of her stuff."

Upon our arrival back home I flew into the living room where I gave B the look that says "And?" and he gave me the look that says "And nothing. False alarm.". And it really was nothing. Our imaginations had run wild and there was no hidden agenda to this afternoon's events. My MIL really did simply want me to drive her to the cemetery and Gerd really did just want to have some buddy time with B.

But I still say the Pink Ribbon sock is testing me.